Chapter Twenty-Four

"Sam! Sammy!" The words were ripped from Dean's throat in a hoarse shout.

"Quiet," Lucifer hissed without looking at Dean. He was leaned over the table, his hands gripping the wood so tight his knuckles were white. His eyes were wide and staring but he didn't seem to be taking in anything around him.

"Sam!"

"Quiet!" It was not a hiss now, it was a bellow, and it was accompanied by a high-pitched whining sound that Dean knew was Lucifer's true voice bleeding through. For the first time in a long time it was brought home to Dean that this wasn't just Sam's boyfriend. He wasn't family; he was Lucifer, the archangel, and he was horrifying in his rage. Dean looked away.

Castiel bent and examined the largest pool of black blood on the floor. "There is no blood."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Bobby said incredulously. "There's nothing but blood."

Castiel didn't look at him as he answered; he fixed his eyes on Dean. "There is no human blood."

As the meaning of those words sank in, Dean swallowed convulsively. There was no human blood meant there was none of Sam's blood. He wasn't there, pooled on the floor among that disgusting black Leviathan crap. Sam wasn't there, dead.

"Okay," Bobby said, sounding as relieved as Dean felt. "That's not Sam, so where the hell is he?"

"Lucifer?" Castiel asked in a gentle voice.

"I don't know," Lucifer briskly.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Dean asked. "You're Lucifer! A damn archangel! How is there anything you don't know?"

"I don't know!" Lucifer shouted. "He never told me! He created those monsters and locked them away and we knew nothing else. He didn't tell us!"

Dean understood he wasn't talking about Sam now, he was referring to God, which in itself was mind-bending.

Lucifer seemed to crackle with energy. Dean had never seen him like this before, not even when Raphael had snatched them. Sam had been seriously hurt then and Lucifer had been furious, but he had also been controlled. There was no control here now. He was enraged and he wasn't keeping a handle on it for their—Sam's—benefit.

"What do we do?" Dean asked quietly, almost afraid of the answer.

Lucifer closed his eyes for a long moment and then breathed out in a sigh. "Castiel, go to Heaven. Tell Gabriel what has happened. Have the garrisons briefed. I want Heaven searched. I want the gates guarded. If Sam arrives, I want to know immediately. If he is already there… keep him safe."

Castiel nodded curtly and disappeared.

"Heaven," Dean said in a heavy voice. "You think he's dead?"

Lucifer shook his head. "I don't think so. I think that is too much to hope for."

"Let me get this straight," Bobby said harshly, "we're hoping he is dead?"

"Yes. If Sam is dead, I will at least know where he is. I will be able to find him. That is all I can hope for, to be able to find him."

"You can't just, I don't know, feel him?" Bobby asked. "You wiped the boys' rib-etchings away."

"He's not there anymore," Lucifer said through gritted teeth. "I cannot sense him. There is a vacuum where he was before."

Dean exhaled in a gust. Sam was more than just gone;he was off angel-radar gone.

"Okay" Bobby said, sounding much calmer. "So we've gotta find him. He's not on your wavelength anymore, so we go to the other man in the know." Seeing Dean's blank expression and Lucifer's complete disinterest, he went on. "Chuck."

Lucifer looked up at Bobby and Dean saw there was a kindling of hope where there had been only desperation before.

"The prophet," he breathed. "Of course."

Dean felt the dizzying sensation of being moved and then he was blinking in a familiar room. Chuck hadn't invested any of the years between visits on improving his home. It was still dim, dirty and littered with liquor bottles. The computer monitor was on, but they didn't seem to have interrupted him writing. He was laid out on the couch with a pillow over his face, snoring loudly. Dean had to marvel at him for a moment. He had to have seen that Sam had been taken, and therefore would know Lucifer and Dean were on their way, but he managed to fit a nap in.

"Chuck!" Dean snapped, just as Lucifer shouted, "Prophet!"

Chuck jerked as if electrocuted and snatched the pillow away. He paled visibly as he saw them both towering over him and Bobby standing behind them with his arms crossed over his chest. He licked his dry lips and swallowed audibly. "Lucifer… Dean…"

"Where is he?" Lucifer asked without preamble.

Chuck got shakily to his feet and held his hands up in front of him. "Please don't smite me. I tried to warn you."

"Tell me where he is!" Lucifer shouted.

Chuck flinched. "I don't know." His voice was breathless and shocky. Lucifer was intimidating Dean, though he knew Lucifer would never harm him, so he could relate to the fear. He had no such guarantees for Chuck, and he was impressed Chuck was still managing to stand in the face of Lucifer's wrath.

"I've been looking, I swear. I took a bunch of Vicodin to knock me out, but I can't see anything but Dean. It's like when Sam went to the cage. There is just nothing there for me to see. Sam's… gone."

As Lucifer's hands fisted, the liquor bottles on the table began to vibrate with soft tinkling sounds. Then he closed his eyes and seemed to swallow down his rage. Dean was glad of it. He didn't know what would happen if he really let loose, but he remembered Castiel smashing all the glass in a hotel room and fill-up joint, and that was just when he was trying to talk. Lucifer's rage and frustration had to be apocalyptic.

With a soft fluttering sound, Castiel appeared. Dean turned to him, a hopeful question on his lips—and wasn't it just twisted that he was hoping for a dead brother—that died immediately with Castiel's slight shake of the head. "There is no sign of him. Gabriel has questioned the Gate guards and the garrisons are aware, but Sam isn't there."

Lucifer bowed his head. "He's gone."

"No," Dean said forcefully. "He's just missing."

"He's not on Earth. He's not in Heaven. He is gone." Lucifer raked a hand over his face. "This is my punishment for loving him."

"God would not punish you like that," Castiel said.

Lucifer huffed a laugh. "You have forgotten your history, Castiel. I was banished merely for refusing to bow. What do you think He would do for a crime such as loving what I deplored?"

"I do not believe it," Castiel said.

Lucifer looked at him with pity. "I do. I loved the purest soul, and because of that he is gone. There is no more fitting punishment for me."

"Fine," Dean snapped. "It's your fault. So what are you going to do about it?"

Lucifer looked at him with pity. "Lament my mistake."

"Lament your—" Dean started, but Lucifer was already gone. With a rushing sound, like furious wings beating, he had left them.

They were alone.


Sam's eyes snapped open and he drew in a sharp breath of cold air. He was looking up into a canopy of trees. There was no moon or stars that he could see through the sparse gaps, but there was some light, just enough for him to see by. He sprung to his feet and looked around the, squinting into the darkness at the end of his line of sight, searching for a sign of his lover and family. There didn't seem to be anyone there but him.

He reached into the back of his pants and found, much to his relief, that his gun was still there. He pulled it out, checked the clip and slid it back into place. He felt better armed, more prepared to deal with whatever was awaiting him in this place.

"Lucifer? Dean?" he called softly, desperate for an answer but almost afraid of being heard. There was an air of indefinable menace about the forest that made him feel that the less attention he drew to himself the better. There was no answering voice, and he risked speaking a little louder, calling to his angel in prayer as well as words, "Lucifer, I'm… I don't know actually, but it's a forest of some sort. I could do with a pick-up." He waited, listening hard for the sound of Lucifer's arrival, but nothing happened. There was no sound but the crunch of leaves under his feet as he turned in a circle. He cursed loudly, forgetting himself. It was a mistake. He heard pounding footsteps against the ground and then something bowled into him from the side, knocking the air out of his lungs.

With a grunt of pain, Sam shoved at the thing on top of him. Teeth snapped close to his face and a snarl ripped up the throat of his attacker. One hand came up to the throat of the thing on him and held back the face. With the other, he searched the ground of the gun he'd dropped when he'd fallen. The fates were on his side as his fingers curled around the cool metal of the barrel. He flipped it in his hand and lifted it, pressing the muzzle against the attacker's side. He pulled the trigger. The air was pushed out of his lungs again as the form above him became a dead weight. He shoved it off and scrambled to his feet. The body was face down, and Sam turned it with a foot.

He knew his mistake before the eyes opened again. The skin was wormy and parted lips revealed rotten teeth. Rugaru. Only killable with fire. He turned, planning to run and knowing it would do no good—fast as he was, a rugaru was faster—then he saw the weapon on the floor. The rugaru must have dropped it when it attacked. He picked it up and hefted it into the air, whipping it to the side just in time to slam it into the rugaru's neck as it came to attack again. It wasn't as easy as taking out a vampire, there was more resistance, but with brute force Sam got it through the neck and the rugaru's head dropped to the floor, followed by its body.

"Well," Sam said with a sigh, "that worked."

He examined the weapon. Its blade looked to be made of stone and the handle was bone and wood. It was wickedly sharp and heavy, but something about it felt right in Sam's hand in the way that Ruby's knife and the colt had once upon a time. He felt its ability to injure and protect in its perfectly balanced weight. He picked up his gun again and tucked it back into his pants, knowing that it would not be used again in this place, and he knew where he was now.

There was no moon or stars but there was some light. There was at least one monster, and he thought he could sense more in the darkness, watching him. He had woken up here immediately after he'd killed Dick Roman. He was almost embarrassed that he hadn't worked it out sooner. Lucifer had told him about this place. He was in Purgatory and he was pretty sure he was staying. Lucifer had never said anything about people getting out. It seemed unlikely that God's toilet had an escape hatch.

Thought was interrupted by a crack of a twig and harsh breath behind him. He spun on his heel and raised the blade again. Running forward, he dropped and kicked the legs out from under the creature. It fell back with a growl and Sam jumped onto its chest, pinning it down with his knees on its shoulders. It was female, face coated with grime and hair matted. Lips curved back over fanged teeth and yellow eyes almost burned with fury—werewolf. Sam positioned the blade over its throat and prepared to force it down when the yellow disappeared and brown replaced it. A voice, hoarse with lack of use and yet so familiar, said, "Sam?"

Sam hesitated, trying to look past the teeth and dirt to the woman beneath. He sucked in a sharp breath and leaned back automatically.

"Madison?"


So… What do you think of that? Initially, Benny was supposed to come to the rescue, but Maddie seemed like so much more fun.

Until next time…

Clowns or Midgets xxx